“No!” The word rushed out too fast. She could tell by the glance Mitch shot Stuart that he’d long since stopped believing a word she said. “Honest. I’m telling the truth.”
“Uh huh,” Mitch said.
Stuart reached down over her shoulders, and his warm hands gently massaged near her collarbones. “I say we strip her down to be sure. If she’s telling the truth, and we wasted a little time, we still get something out of it. Who knows? She might like it.”
“In your dreams.” She shot a glare over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t like it one bit. Not with that attitude, mister. Find someone else.”
“There she goes with that talking again,” Mitch said.
“Didn’t she say something about ignoring it?” Stuart said.
“Not all of it,” Cinda snapped.
She clutched the chemise, trying to cover herself up, but dang it all. She’d grown some in the last few years, and it took a bit of time to stuff herself back into a chemise she’d had since she was fifteen. She might have been a late bloomer, but when she blossomed, she’d gotten enough for two girls. Her hands fumbled and blundered their way across the fabric, trying to get the laces tied, cursing under her breath.
Stuart laughed. “Now, little filly, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“I don’t think she’s wearing knickers,” Mitch said. “And if she were, I’ll bet they’d be wet.”
Oh, they thought they were so amusing. She’d had just about enough of Mitch’s lazy drawl and shot him a dirty look.
Stuart inhaled deeply, and she made a fist, stopping just short of pounding it into his face. “I’ll take that bet. She’s creaming herself. I can smell it.”
He must have winked at his brother because Mitch winked and smiled. He had an adorable smile. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and made her want to kiss him. Of course, thoughts like that did her no good around these two. She clenched her jaw and held in the scream building in her chest because she couldn’t stop that wetness between her legs.
She continued to struggle with the laces, mumbling under her breath.
“Need some help?” Mitch asked.
“Help’s not gonna do it,” Stuart said. “She needs more cloth. It’s like trying to cram ten pounds of coffee into a five pound bag.”
“You two are so hilarious,” Cinda said. “Do you perform nightly at one of the Deadwood theaters?”
“No time for that,” Stuart said. “We have gold to find.”
“Or steal from others,” Cinda mumbled.
“So you think we’d do well in theater?” Mitch smiled down at her, and Cinda gave him her sternest glare. “If the gold runs out, we’ll keep it in mind. Hey, Stu, remember that time in St. Louis?”
Stuart burst out laughing. “I swear that man nearly shit when—”
Oh, she wished she had been in St. Louis. She wanted to live in their world. Why didn’t they just invite her in, instead of playing this childish game with her?
Stuart continued to regale them with a convoluted story about a man who tried to bilk them out of gold. Everything came back to gold. Mitch had other things on his mind. He reached out and plucked a lace she’d just spent half her life re-tying.
“Hey!” She twisted away and practically snarled at him. “Don’t touch me.”
* * * *
She sounded like a wounded bear cub, angry and unpredictable but cute as hell.
Her voice made Stuart think of the rustle of prairie flowers in a wild summer breeze. Cinda seemed a combination of gentle innocence and determined resilience, like the hardy blossoms that poked through the hard-packed dirt of the Dakota hills. There was an elegant beauty in their natural ability to rise above what earth decreed and flourish despite harsh conditions. Cinda had that same appeal. He wondered what kind of life this woman had led that made her seem so pure and unblemished, yet so full of fiery independence and strength. Wildflowers went through hell to carve out their existence in this territory, and Stuart suspected Cinda had seen a little of her own. Those bruises on her face told part of her story.
He hoped they would hear the rest of her story in time. For all he knew, it matched their own. He sensed a wounded soul, one that had tried to give and been rebuffed so many times the hurt had left scars inside. Luckily, he and Mitch had grown up together, and what they’d never received from their parents—love, stability, and generosity—had been found in each other. Stuart figured, like he and his brother, Cinda had long since stopped trying to gain what she most desired and lived with the consequences. Something, however, had forced her to trek onto the prairie and into the Dakota forests. A woman didn’t jump from the frying pan into the fire without a damn good reason. And any woman who would willingly jump into fire was worth her weight in gold.
When Mitch plucked at another lace, she smacked his hand away, and he laughed. Obviously, Mitch didn’t care what Cinda thought because he nodded toward Stuart. Stuart slid his hands down from her shoulders to trace across her arms until he touched her wrists. He enveloped them in a warm grip and drew her arms down to her sides.
When he cupped her hands in his, her little fingers curled around his instinctually. Her fingers were rough and scratchy. She’d probably worked hard in the past, and definitely had since she’d arrived in their camp. He could heal her skin if he made her life more comfortable, but he wished he could heal her soul as easily. It might take a bit of time to fight his way through the prickly exterior to the soft gentle soul beneath, but he knew it was there and hoped to find it. He’d need Mitch’s cooperation and help. He thought by the look on Mitch’s face his brother might have similar ideas on his mind. Mitch might be a hard-ass, but he liked wildflowers, too.
They could do with a little beauty in their lives. He hoped Mitch could control himself long enough to let the beauty in.
* * * *
You dumb son-of-a-bitch. You had to go and touch her.
Mitch had been around plenty of women in his life, but from the first moment his body had collided with this great-smelling bundle of womanly flesh, his cock had decided it wanted to get closer. It lurched up, straining toward her like it’d never been in a pussy in its thirty-odd years. Mitch couldn’t seem to convince it otherwise. He tried to will away the sensation, but that pounding ache in his balls reminded him time couldn’t go backwards. He’d touched her, and now he’d pay the price. His dick swelled, growing bigger and harder until it throbbed against the denim with the steady rhythm of a shaft drill.
She hadn’t been truthful with them. Mitch had no idea who she was, who she worked for, or where she’d come from, yet none of that seemed to matter. His dick had a mind of its own and wanted this woman no matter the consequences. Mitch thought getting to know her a little better sounded like a great idea.
Now he had a problem, and with each glance at the little blonde woman, it got harder not to fall prey to her obvious charms. He’d never been one to trust women all that much, but that smile that skimmed her mouth from time to time could undo him pretty fast if he let it. That challenge in her eyes made his cock twitch and his heart thump in a strangely pleasing way. She looked like a girl who’d given and given and never gotten back in return. She’d take what she could get and be happy for it. To Mitch’s way of thinking, that seemed a pretty unfair existence.
He could change her life if he wanted to. He thought he’d like to give it a shot, or at least see where things led. She felt good under his hands, smelled like summer wind and reminded him of a pretty yellow flower poking out of hard-packed prairie dirt.
He and Stuart had been on the mining trail a long time, since they’d set off from Ohio at thirteen to escape what life had handed them. They’d followed gold and silver strikes from one territory to another and through wilderness that could have broken lesser men. They’d worked for others until they’d saved enough to strike out on their own. They now had enough gold in St. Louis, Cheyenne, and Deadwood to last them lifetimes.
Mining had become a habit, s
omething they did because they enjoyed the challenge and loved the excitement of finding something no one else had ever seen. They’d never given thought to the future beyond traveling to the next town that sprang up in the desert or carved itself into the side of a hill. Looking into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, Mitch thought it might be time to think about settling down and seeing how much happiness that gold could bring.
They were treasure hunters, and he’d begun to think that this girl that had fallen into their laps might be the greatest treasure they’d come across in a while.
But thoughts like that usually got him into trouble, and he really wasn’t in the mood for trouble today. Keeping alive was hard enough.
* * * *
Cinda tugged at the laces. She’d had enough of Mitch’s drawl, those sparkling eyes, and his warm, rough hands, too. She wanted to stay, and she’d thought it would easy to convince them. Watching the emotions play over Mitch’s face, however, she saw it might be tougher than she suspected.
She lifted her gaze back to Mitch, determined to make him see her side. Her breath caught in her chest. Staring into her eyes, almost hypnotizing her with that green gaze, he reached up and closed the folds of her chemise. She stiffened.
“You can relax. We aren’t going to hurt you, honeybunch.”
She dropped her gaze, trying to break the spell, and stared at the wide green expanse of his flannel shirt. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered. It was the largest sound she could make, and she barely heard it herself. But he must have.
“Cinda…”
Her name sounded magical spoken in his soft, lazy drawl. Her lashes fluttered as her gaze rose back to his. He stroked a finger down her cheek.
“Yes?’ she murmured.
“Is this what you want? For us to touch you?”
She couldn’t seem to answer his question. Either answer seemed wrong. She swallowed thickly. “I’m not sure.”
The rough calluses of his fingers sent tingles flying over her skin, and her privates clenched viciously inside as the ache ground through her, spreading from her pelvis to radiate through her entire body. She trembled, but it wasn’t out of fear. Stuart loosened the grip on her wrists, and he twined his fingers around hers. He leaned down and spoke against the skin of her neck.
“You’d like us to touch you, wouldn’t you?”
Now that she had a horse named Goldy, having them touch her was all she’d ever wanted. She’d worry about getting the gold back later. The touch of these men was a treasure of a different kind, and she wanted to experience it all.
Now or never.
Cinda rested her head back against Stuart’s chest and tightened her fingers around his. She glanced up at Mitch and decided that, for once, she would take something for herself. No matter what she’d been told for most of her life, she deserved it. She gave Mitch her most challenging look then smiled.
“Well, Mitch? What are you waiting for? I dare you.”
The soft growl that rumbled out of his mouth told her she was in for an interesting afternoon.
Mitch trailed a finger down her throat and dipped inside her chemise to slide over the tip of her breast and down to the belt around her waist. He followed the movement of his hand with his gaze. Every place he touched sparked with a sizzling heat that left a pathway of fire over her skin. Nothing had ever felt so good, and nothing in life had prepared her for the grinding ache that unfurled in her pelvis. When Mitch cupped his hand between her thighs and curled it around her most private area, more moisture leaked out. It dampened the borrowed trousers. She wondered what would have happened in a dress. She rocked her hips toward his hand and made some kind of funny sound in her throat that she barely recognized, some kind of a pleading noise. She’d never begged for anything but decided to make an exception. If they stopped, she’d be so disappointed and never forgive herself for being too prideful to beg.
“I’m throbbing.” Without her consent, the thought just tumbled into words and fell out of her mouth. She knew she should keep thoughts like that to herself, but she’d never had much control over that.
Stuart skimmed his hands over her almost-bare shoulders. “Where, darlin’?”
“Where he’s touching. Between my legs.”
Stuart chuckled. “If your pussy’s throbbing, sweetheart, we’re doing something right. Does it feel right?”
“Oh, yes…” She closed her eyes and rolled her head against his shoulder. “My pussy…is that what it’s called?”
“Hmm,” Stuart said, “guess we’ll have to take things a little slower.”
“How much slower can we go?” Mitch said. “I haven’t done anything yet, and she’s wet. I can tell. Feel her.”
His hand slid away, and Cinda’s lower lip pushed out in a pout. She opened her mouth to protest, but Stuart reached around and cupped his hand around her pussy. She relaxed into the cradle of his palm, rubbing against it, gentle nudges that eased the itching a little.
“That feels nice,” she murmured.
“Then you’re really going to like the rest,” Stuart said.
She glanced up to find Mitch studying her face. It probably should have made her feel self-conscious, even uncomfortable, but she found it intensely arousing, and it spurred her to want more, to share everything with these men. Mitch looked ready to eat her alive, and she liked it. She liked it a lot. “Tell me about the rest.”
Her voice sounded dreamy, and Mitch gulped as his gaze dipped to his brother’s hand. Stuart shifted his palm a little, moving it up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, gliding over a spot that sent ripples through her lower body and a spurt of liquid to drip from between her thighs.
Land sakes alive, but these men knew her body better than she did. Her heart did a fluttering little flip, and her hips jerked forward. A breathy gasp escaped from her then she laughed.
“I think I’m going to like the rest. It feels—”
Mitch gripped her shoulders and yanked her upper body toward him. His mouth closed over hers, devouring her lips and stealing every thought in her head and breath in her body. She slumped in his hands, caught against the warmth of Stuart’s palm, and just let Mitch take what he wanted. She didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to respond and wondered at that, but not for long. She just let herself enjoy her first real kiss. She’d dream of a real kiss all her life, one that made her mind fuzzy and her body tighten. The slide of his tongue into her mouth was heavenly. The texture of his lips felt like raw silk, gliding smoothly over hers, nipping and tugging at her lips then slamming back to crush and ravage. His hot breath and the warm, wet kiss tingled every nerve she had and made the flesh between her legs swell and pulse with anticipation.
Slowly his lips left hers, reluctantly maybe. She could only hope. When Mitch finally pulled away, he stared into her eyes. She stared back, confused, excited, trembling but wanting him to do it again.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
He smiled a lazy smile. “You talk too much.”
“How would you know? You don’t listen.” She reached up and grabbed his face. She captured his mouth with her lips, not sure what she was doing, but doing it just the same. When she’d felt his tongue slip into her mouth, she had all but lost her sense of balance, and now she wanted to do the same to him and steal a little of his control. A thrill went through her at the sense of power she felt when she heard the sound he made. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and nearly crushed her body to his, and she swore, in that moment, she was so lost she knew she’d never leave this claim on her own. Not even with her gold. Not even with her horse. They’d have to hog-tie her and deliver her to Deadwood strung on a wooden pole.
He pulled away and raised his face. He looked as stunned as she felt. His brow furrowed then he nodded to Stuart. “Keep going. I’ll be right back.”
She turned her head to watch him stride away, but then Stuart grabbed her attention by undoing the belt and sliding his hand inside her pants. His finger slid betwe
en her pussy lips, and the impossible happened. She forgot for a minute Mitch existed.
* * * *
What the fuck are you doing?
“Jesus, I have no idea.” He checked on the horses and glanced in their water buckets by habit. “That was a kiss. A real fucking kiss. You don’t know her, where she came from, what she’s doing here, and you fucking kissed her.”
She kissed you back.
She had given him the sweetest, most passionate, most sincere kiss he’d ever gotten in his life.
“You, my man, are in serious trouble here.”
He dropped all the gold nuggets into a jar and sat it on the work bench. He stood, staring blankly at the back wall of the stable.
“She’s after the gold. That’s all she wants. She doesn’t want Stuart, and she doesn’t want me. She’s a thief, a claim jumper, and probably a gold digger.” He and his brother had run across more than one woman hanging around a mining camp looking for any prospect to turn a financial tide, and he’d fallen for one once, hard. He couldn’t make that mistake again. “Damn, she doesn’t feel that way.”
Goldy nudged him, reminding him that Stuart was alone with Cinda, that time was flying, and when something fell into his lap, he’d be a moron not to accept it. Goldy seemed to like the girl, but Goldy’d known her less time than he had.
Goldy didn’t know that women couldn’t be trusted, especially once they’d seen the gold. Gold fever played havoc with a person’s mind.
* * * *
Stuart's fingers danced over the tiny nub between her legs, putting pressure on the sensitive little peak until she felt her legs start to tremble.
“Oh God…” She clutched his arm. Her nails dug into the flannel of his shirt, and she heard a tiny rip. She guessed she’d be doing a little mending tomorrow, but she’d worry about that later, much later. For now, Stuart had her caught in some kind of sensual madness she never knew existed. She wouldn’t have walked away if Mitch came out and offered her gold back. She drew in a ragged breath. “What are you touching?”
The Gold Digger Page 6